


Restaurant Revelations

by almaasi



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Canon, Castiel Wearing Dean Winchester's Clothes, Engagement, Fallen Angel Castiel, Family Dinners, Fluff, Human Castiel, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Oblivious Sam, Relationship Reveal, Restaurants, Sam Finds Out, Sam Ships It, Schmoop, Secret Relationship, Team Free Will, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-11
Updated: 2017-11-11
Packaged: 2019-01-31 17:10:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12686505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/almaasi/pseuds/almaasi
Summary: Dean and Cas have something important to tell Sam. They don their cheap rental tuxes, and Cas takes out dinner reservations at an exclusive restaurant just for the occasion. Sam is surprised enough when he and Cas make it through the door. But Dean shows up five minutes late, and the restaurant's security protocols surely make it impossible for him to join them. The secret password is "fiancé". And somehow Dean knows without being told.





	Restaurant Revelations

**Author's Note:**

> This fic probably never would've seen the light of day without encouragement from my betas [Libby](http://cersei-the-truth-bombardier.tumblr.com/) and [Mittens](http://mittensmorgul.tumblr.com/), who assured me that the cloying sweetness is actually a good thing. I'm not sure how I forgot that, but I did??  
> Well, this is a thing now. Enjoy. ♥

“What are we even _doing_ here,” Sam demanded, frowning at his cufflink as he fought to make it settle. “Where are we going?” He glanced up, watching the bokeh gleam of colourful road lights as Dean slotted the Impala into the right-hand lane.

“You’ll find out in a minute,” Dean said, one hand on the wheel, the other fiddling with his bow tie. “We’re almost there.”

“This isn’t hunt-related,” Sam said, both as a query and as a sure statement. “You’d have told me if it was hunt-related.”

“It’s a personal matter,” Castiel’s low voice said from the back seats. “Dean and I—”

“Dude!” Dean turned his head over his shoulder, glaring behind him. “Put a lid on it, Cas.”

“Apologies.” Castiel sighed as he leant back, eyes shining with light reflected from storefronts as they passed.

Sam gave Castiel a thankful smile, pressed between his lips. At least he’d tried.

“Is that it?” Dean uttered to himself, leaning forward with his chest almost to the steering wheel. “Awesome. Okay, I’mma drop you guys here. No way I’m letting some valet park my baby.”

Curious, Sam bent his head to see out. There, on the left of a nearby parking lot, past a compact green garden, a building with marble pillars shone with lights beamed from the ground. Its front windows were arched, pooling with golden ambience from inside. Sam’s jaw dropped.

“No way,” he said. “ _That’s—_!” He began to grin, eyes darting to Dean. “That’s Bullfighters. Don’t tell me you got reservations. That place is, like, hyper-exclusive. They make you hand over your cellphones when you go in!”

“Yeah,” Dean set his jaw, eyes flicking across the parking lot as he drove in. “Cas picked it. He said you were totally into the idea of—”

“They have vegan options,” Sam grinned. “A lot of them. I’ve wanted to come here for years.”

Dean was clearly trying to restrain an eye-roll. “Mm-hm.”

“So why are we _here_?” Sam asked again, finally getting his cufflink in place. “How much cash are we blowing on this place?”

“Guess we’ll find out, won’t we?” Dean eased the car to a halt right outside the restaurant’s garden, leaving the engine idling. “You ‘n Cas go get us a table, I’ll be with you in three.”

Sam popped open the door and got out. When Castiel didn’t join him, Sam bent down to see what the delay was.

He saw Dean reaching into the back seat, adjusting Castiel’s bow tie as Castiel held his chin up. Soon Dean smiled, satisfied, and clapped Castiel on the shoulder.

Now Castiel scooted to exit the car, and Sam moved to open the door for him. As Sam straightened, slamming the door closed, Castiel joined him at the garden gate.

Castiel’s eyelids fluttered, and he turned towards the great marble building. “Let’s go in,” he said. He led Sam to the gate, opened it for him, then closed it after Sam went through.

Taking a deep breath of crisp night air, Sam caught the scent of jasmine flowers, and the tender aroma of freshly-watered soil. Just beyond that... as they made their way down the garden path... Sam could smell pasta sauce. Basil. Roasting parsnips. His mouth began to water.

The entrance to the restaurant was fronted by a pair of glass doors, framed in an industrial black metal grid. The first door was open, and Sam and Cas walked through into a delicate greenhouse porch area. Towering tropical plants bracketed the next door, which was hung with climbing vines. Sam’s shoes clapped on glossy black tiles with each of the two steps he and Cas took.

Guarding the inside door was a smiley brown woman with her black hair piled up tall, then slicked back across her head. She wore a black waistcoat with a white bib, and she spread her hands in welcome as they approached.

“Welcome to Bullfighters. I’m Esme. Do you have a reservation?”

“Yes,” Castiel said, bowing his head as he reached into his trenchcoat, rummaging for something. “I made a telephone call a number of weeks ago—” He pulled out a folded, crumpled piece of printer paper, uncrumpling it, then showing it to Esme.

Sam watched Esme’s face pull into a tighter smile, far from delighted at being handed a printout instead of, presumably, some handwritten invitation on textured cardstock.

“You’re Mr. Leo d’Caprio?” Esme said, somewhat flatly.

Castiel blinked twice. “That’s... what the paper says. Yes. That is me.”

Esme’s lipsticked lips pressed together in a forced smile. “Do you have identification on you?” She eased up a little as Castiel began to search his pockets. With a slight grin, she glanced at Sam, explaining, “We’re a very exclusive members-only club, it’s unusual that we have, ah... new friends. We often have strangers trying to _sneak in_ ,” he added, with a secretive squint. “Of course I— Oh, thank you.”

She accepted the driver’s license Castiel handed her, holding it up and looking between the photo and Castiel’s face. She narrowed her eyes. Castiel attempted to smile, and at once, Esme laughed. “Oh! A perfect match.” She handed back the card. “Thank you _so_ much, Mr. d’Caprio. If you and your guest could step inside, one of the staff will seat you.”

“Pardon me,” Sam said quickly, before Esme guided them inside. “Just so you know, there’s one more from our party arriving, he’ll be here soon.”

“No problem,” Esme said. “If he's not coming in with the party host,” she gestured to Castiel, “I need to make a note so we know he’s not... ah, _faking_ being in your party. It happens all the time, you see. Usually that means he’ll know the name the reservation is under, and we write down what relationship he is to you.”

Castiel looked Esme in the eye and said, simply, “He’s my... fiancé.” Sam scoffed.

“Oh, _congratulations_ ,” Esme crooned, leaning forward to touch Castiel’s arm. “I hope you’re very happy together!”

“Um. Thank you. That’s very kind of you.”

Sam glanced at Castiel, smiling and perplexed. He wasn’t convinced Dean would know Castiel’s alias for the night, given Castiel had likely pulled a fake I.D. out of a box of cards. And now he’d have to guess that Cas had called him his fiancé?! Now there was no chance Dean would get past Esme. Batting Castiel’s side with his hand, Sam uttered, “You know – Leo – we could just wait for him...”

“Ah! This is Troy, he’ll be your waiter for his evening,” Esme said, introducing a prim-looking Indian guy with curious eyes, who’d just crept out into the entrance hall. “Troy, would you mind showing Mr. d’Caprio and his guest to a table please, thank you.”

“Absolutely. Sirs, if you’ll follow me.”

Troy turned his back and led them away. Sam fretted on the spot, internally freaking out that Dean wouldn’t be able to get in. What kind of mad scheme was this? Was Cas trying to get Sam alone? Was excluding Dean part of the plan?

Sam pulled his cellphone from the back pocket of his rented tuxedo pants, preparing to message Dean, only for a gold tray with a mirrored base to be offered his way.

“Sorry, sir, we don’t allow technology inside,” Troy said kindly. “For the sake of the dining experience, you know how it is. All those blips and bleeps, and distractions...”

A strained smile overtook Sam’s face, but he fought to make it seem cordial. He lay his cellphone in the tray, on top of Castiel’s.

“May I take your coat, sir,” Troy said to Castiel.

Castiel frowned, holding his lapel. “No, I don’t usually—”

“Cas, let him take it,” Sam said quickly, with a grin. “He’ll give it back afterwards. They hang it up somewhere safe.”

“Oh – I see,” Castiel said. “This is normal protocol.” He hesitated, but then pulled his coat off, letting Troy take it from him. He reached for it as it was separated from him, but then curled his fingers, and let his hand sink back to his thigh. Sam gave his arm a consoling pat.

Troy led them away from the front desk, and deeper into the cavernous red mouth of the restaurant. Sam looked back over his shoulder, but only saw Esme writing on a clipboard, blocking the view to the garden path beyond.

Striding after Castiel and Troy, Sam forgot about Dean for a minute, awed by how the interior decorator of this place had found the perfect mix between grandiose and dainty. The chandeliers hung at the peaks of the arched ceilings, like crystal galaxies in the blue night sky. The room was giant, but the customers’ tables were spread apart just enough that they filled the space and made it seem cosy. A hubbub of chatter rumbled through the room. The floor was all checkered tiles, black, white, black, white. A golden starburst was inlaid into the tiles, its intricate pattern winding and ornate, dizzying Sam as he watched it vanish under his feet.

Troy showed them to a little cubby booth, with a scallop-backed red velvet bench, curved around a table, with an array of real plant fronds dangling behind.

Castiel and Sam both took a seat. Castiel sat with his hands clasped on the table, waiting patiently.

But Sam turned his face to the front entrance, and kept his eyes there, not even looking away as Troy placed a menu down for him, then left.

“Are you all right?” Castiel asked, noticing Sam’s unease.

Sam turned his eyes on Castiel. “Why’d you tell her Dean was your fiancé?” he said with a frown.

Castiel lowered his eyes. “It... Um.” He pressed his lips together, then cleared his throat. “A cover story,” he said. “I’m playing a character.”

“Oh, are you,” Sam said. “Is Dean in on it? Because I’m pretty sure ‘fiancé’ is the _last_ thing he’s going to say when they ask him how they know you.”

Castiel seemed guilty. “It... slipped out. I didn’t mean to say it.”

Sam softened. He looked at Castiel with care, thoughts rushing around in his head. Gradually, his alarm sank, filtering out to just one question: “Does Dean... know how you feel about him?”

Castiel’s eyes rose sharply, meeting Sam’s. “Excuse me?”

Sam’s shoulders lowered as he breathed out, giving Cas a friendly smile. “I get it, Cas. It’s fine. That’s something people do, they say things by accident when they’re not thinking. We call them Freudian Slips, where you reveal your true feelings by mistake.” When Castiel squinted, Sam shook his head. “Look, at the very least, I know you’ve told him you love him. Maybe he hasn’t figured out in what _way_ , but at least he has some idea.”

With the briefest flash of his pink tongue, Castiel separated his lips. He took a breath to speak, but did not speak.

Sam gave a flat smile and reached over, squeezing Castiel’s wrist and the cuff of his shirt, which just peeked out under his tuxedo sleeve. “Hey. Even if he never says it... He loves you too, Cas. You know?”

“Yes,” Castiel said quietly. “I _do_ know,” he said, more confidently. “In fact, that’s what we—”

“There he is!” Sam said, sitting up straight. He could see Dean approaching Esme, hands in the pockets of his suit pants. “Hey, you think I should go tell Esme that’s him?”

Sam started to get to his feet, but the moment he was up, Esme had already opened the door, and Dean was inside.

Sinking back down, Sam stared, dumbfounded.

Dean handed over his cellphone, looking mildly chagrined, but grinned at something Troy said.

What?!

How?

The only way Dean could’ve gotten inside is if Esme had asked, “And how do you know the host?” and Dean had answered, “Uh. He’s my, uh. F-Fiancé, I guess.” And then shrugged, and smiled. Sam had seen it happen. And he couldn’t believe it had worked.

“You planned this, then,” Sam said warily, turning his face to Castiel, but only setting eyes on him at the last second. “You talked over your cover story beforehand.”

“We chose my identification card together when I made the reservation,” Castiel agreed.

“Okay, sure, but—?” Sam lapped at his lips, allowing Castiel to scoot closer to make room for Dean in the booth.

“Heyy,” Dean grinned, coming up to the table. “Fancy place, huh. Look at that. Looks like the place-settings from _Titanic_. Jeez, how many forks can a girl _need_?”

Troy came over and placed a menu before Dean. “Signal me whenever you’re ready to order.”

“Will do,” Dean smiled, watching Troy leave, settling into his seat. Dean then turned to his company, grinning. He opened up the flocked menu booklet, waggling it to crack the spine, then folded the front underneath, holding it in one hand like a paperback novel. “Let’s see.” His face fell. “Ugh, _how_ much for a salad?! Jesus Christ, where’s the burger and fries...”

“Dean,” Sam scoffed. “That’s not what they do here. Everything’s gluten free, dairy free, vegan, nut free—”

Dean sneered. “If it’s everything-free, why the hell are we paying for it?”

“Dean,” Castiel said scoldingly, one hand on Dean’s wrist. “We came here for Sam’s enjoyment, don’t shame him for a difference in taste.”

“This ain’t a difference in taste, Cas,” Dean said. “I’d bet anything this crap doesn’t have a taste at all. I mean!” He whacked the menu with the back of his hand, “Who makes a burger out of beans! Who does that!”

“ _Dean_ ,” Castiel almost growled. “Either order it, or let’s leave, I won’t allow you to sully this experience with your negativity. I, for one, would like to try the grilled bean burger, with the sweet potato wedges and the tangy horseradish dipping sauce. Garden salad on the side.”

Dean scowled, but lifted his eyes and clapped the booklet shut. “Fine,” he grunted. “Whatever. I’ll have what you’re having. Sans the greens, I ain’t owing someone an arm and a leg for something I’m not even gonna eat.”

Sam began to smile. He saw a glimmer of eagerness in Dean’s eyes – it did sound good to him. Just a little. Even if he’d never admit it.

“So,” Sam said, once he’d chosen his meal too, raising a hand to signal Troy over. “Dean. Are you gonna explain how you got inside, given Cas set the passcode as ‘fiancé’?”

Dean and Cas went uncomfortably silent.

Sam made his order first, and Troy wrote it all on a notepad. Then, as Dean and Castiel were glancing at each other, looking nervous, Sam ordered for them, too. “Sans the salad on one,” Sam finished.

“Actually—” Dean stuck his tongue over his top lip, eyes darting to Sam, then Troy. “Maybe a little. Like, a half-serving. Just a tomato or somethin’.”

Troy seemed bemused, but nodded and made a note.

Dean’s eyes shot to Sam’s, then down to the crimson tablecloth, fingers stroking his still-folded origami napkin pyramid.

As Troy left, Sam turned expectant eyes on his brother and their ex-angel friend. “Well?”

Dean seemed to shrink inside his tuxedo, one hand drifting to tug on his too-tight bow tie. “Ummm. Cas?”

Castiel and Dean shared a significant look.

Slowly, as Castiel breathed out, he met Sam’s eyes. “Sam,” he said. “There’s something Dean and I would like to tell you.”

* * *

FOUR WEEKS EARLIER

“Hold still! Cas, _quit_ it—”

Castiel huffed in annoyance, pausing halfway between Dean’s motel bed and Sam’s, not willing to let Dean attack him with a band-aid. “I’m fine, Dean. It doesn’t hurt.”

“I don’t care, you’re gonna get red all over my shirt, and I _just_ got the shifter juice out of that one. Remind me to buy you your _own_ t-shirts, then you can bleed all over them to your heart’s content.”

“I like yours,” Castiel complained, letting Dean force him to sit on the corner of Sam’s bed. “New shirts aren’t this soft.”

“Mm,” Dean said, prying the backing off the band-aid and slowly adhering it to Castiel’s jaw. “Talkin’ of soft— There. When you rip this one off, go quick or it’s gonna hurt more.” He stroked his knuckles against Castiel’s stubble, smiling.

Sam looked up from his laptop, clearly intrigued by that intimacy.

Dean licked his lips, then backed away from Cas, eyes on Sam.

Sam just smiled. “Nawwww. You guys are cute.”

“Shuddup,” Dean scowled.

“You gonna kiss it better?” Sam teased. “Give him a hug?”

“ _No_ ,” came Dean’s brutal response.

Castiel looked at him plaintively. Yet his voice was gentle and light as he said, “I’d like a hug, Dean.”

Dean reached out and stiffly patted Castiel’s shoulder. “There there.”

Sam chuckled, setting his laptop aside, slinging his legs off the bed. “Neither of you need a shower right this second, do you? I still feel monster grime on me.”

“Have at it,” Dean said, waving at Sam.

Sam grabbed clean underwear and a shirt, and headed into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him.

Heaving a great sigh, Dean sat down next to Cas on the bed, wobbling the mattress. He slung an arm over Cas’ shoulder, pulled him in so they were chest-to-chest, and squeezed. Castiel smiled, one happy note purling from the back of his throat.

Dean pulled back after a few seconds, shaking his head. “We gotta tell him already. It’s weird that he doesn’t know. Kinda... feels like we’re lying.”

Castiel pressed his lips together in a flat smile. “You are lying,” he said. “If you didn’t push back whenever I lean in, he would’ve worked it out already.”

“Oh, yeah, pin this one on me,” Dean uttered, while knowing full-well it was his own fears that urged him to keep Sam in the dark.

“We said we’d tell him when we were sure it was serious,” Castiel said, looking at the side of Dean’s face, so close that Dean felt the warm hush of his breath. “Are you not sure yet?”

“What – yeah! Yeah, I am,” Dean said, nodding deeply and frowning, eyes on the motel’s TV with a cracked screen. “It’s not like I’m worried we’re gonna break up, or anything. It’s just...”

“Just what?” Castiel asked sweetly.

A little smile tugged on Dean’s lips. “Nothin’.” He met Castiel’s eyes and smiled, chest flooding with warm treacle, sparkling in his heart. “I’m all set. Far as you ‘n me go, I’m in for the long haul.”

“You mean you’d like to remain romantic partners until we die,” Castiel said.

Dean rolled a shoulder. “When did dying ever stop us? C’mon, dude, I’mma love you longer than that.”

“Until the end of eternity, then,” Castiel said. “Good. Me too.”

Dean chuckled, tucking his chin to his chest. “God, we’re such a married couple. I’m borderline disgusted by this conversation, Cas. Just so you know. _Sickened_.”

Castiel’s smile crinkled his eyes, a hand sneaking over to hold Dean’s. “What do you mean by ‘married couple’? We aren’t married.”

“Well, no, but—” Dean glanced at Castiel, looking from one perfect blue eye to the other. “But we kind of are, right? Til death do us part, give or take an eternity.”

“I suppose,” Castiel said, thoughtfully.

“What,” Dean promoted, sensing unsaid words.

Castiel tilted his head. “Do you want to get married?”

Dean lifted his head, shocked. “What?”

“If I asked you to marry me, would you say yes?”

Dean’s lips slid apart. “Um. I mean— Y-You mean like—? Like married-married. Rings and flowers and shit.”

“No, like a binding promise made with the utmost trust and love,” Castiel said. “Written or unwritten.”

Dean looked away, then back. “Wh... What would be the point? You already know how I feel. _I_ already know. Sam— We’ll tell him eventually. Everyone else too. Why do we need to sign it in blood to prove it?”

A wrinkle appeared between Castiel’s brows. He lowered his shiny eyes, staring at the floor. He didn’t need to act sad in order to _look_ sad, not really.

Dean took a breath, turning over his hand so he could hold Castiel’s. “You... wanna get married, huh.”

A flicker of a smile quirked up the corners of Castiel’s lips. When he raised his eyes to Dean’s, they were glossy, and the depth of his love was monumental in his stare.

Dean found himself grinning. “How does ‘Castiel Winchester’ sound to you?”

* * *

Sam coughed into his water glass, splashing droplets across his nose. He set the glass down on the tablecloth, half coughing, half clearing his throat. He looked at Dean and Cas with complete astonishment charging through him.

Dean gave Castiel the softest look, round-eyed, with a relaxed smirk on his face. Their hands were joined on the tabletop, Dean’s left and Castiel’s right, while Dean held a fork in his other hand, his starter course only half-finished.

Sam shook his head. “This—” He chuckled. “I mean. You can’t have...” He breathed out in awe. “You’re actually serious.”

Dean lowered his eyes to his food, stabbing into his mini quiche with his fork prongs. “Serious as a werewolf bite at full moon,” he said.

“You were dating and I never knew.”

“Not ‘dating’,” Castiel remarked. “I believe ‘dating’ implies scheduled activities enjoyed together.”

“What, you don’t count hunting?” Dean raised his eyebrows. “I count hunting. If I can pick you a flower in a field beside a crime scene, then hang out with you for eight hours while you wear the thing in your buttonhole, it counts as a date. Just sayin’.” He reached for his wine glass and held it in his full fist as he raised it to his lips. He took a long swig – gulp, gulp, gulp, gulp, gulp – then exhaled and set the empty glass back down.

“I can’t—” Sam set a hand against his forehead, staring into nothing. “How has this been going on for months, and I never realised?”

“We weren’t exactly subtle, dude,” Dean said, taking the remainder of his quiche in hand and munching on the pastry crust. “You sh’aw and hearb plenpy. You jus’h never puh i’h t’gether ‘cause—”

“No, don’t get me wrong, I _knew_ ,” Sam insisted. “I knew you were batshit crazy for each other – look at you, you’re drowning in each other’s eyes – ergh— But? But I didn’t think you’d ever actually _do_ anything about it. Dating. Dating is one thing. But getting _engaged_ —”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Look,” he said, stroking his thumb against Castiel’s hand. “It’s not a big deal.”

“Yes, it is,” Castiel said.

“Okay, it’s a big deal,” Dean amended. “But in the grand scheme of things, what’s even different? We’d die for each other before, and we’d die for each other now. For years I’d be lookin’ at Cas, and I’d imagine kissing him all the time. Only difference is that now I get to, if we’re alone. Cas is still riding in the backseat if Sam’s shotgun. There’s no ring. Probably not gonna have a real fancy wedding. Everything’s basically the same.”

“The difference,” Castiel said, looking at Dean, “is that...”

He seemed shaken, suddenly. Emotional. He looked down, gulping. “The difference goes beyond words. You are, and always have been, the world to me, Dean. You are the one I have wanted by my side, and would choose first from any being in existence. You and Sam have long been my friends, my best friends. But Dean...”

With a breath, Castiel shook his head, holding Dean’s gaze. “You are the love of my life. The _light_ of my life.”

Dean’s lips parted, his loving gaze growing more intense.

“And no,” Castiel said, “I don’t need your promises, or proof you feel the same. I don’t need a celebration, or a contract. That’s not why I want this.”

“Then... why?” Dean asked. “Why marry me?”

Sam wondered how he’d gotten this far without ever asking, but now, at last, they’d both find out.

Castiel inhaled. “Over the years you’ve taught me about humanity. Your customs. Taking your coat off at the door; wiping your feet. Giving gifts on religious holidays. Then there’s your way of doing things. Earning money. Saving people... hunting things.” He smiled as the brothers smiled. “The symbols of your love. Dying to save one another. Or the more subtle; a hug, a kiss. Sharing food.” He hung his head, an upward tilt on the corners of his lips. “Finding ‘the one’. And keeping them, once you find them.”

His gaze settled on Dean again. “For so long I only observed. I engaged in your routines and customs so I fit in with you. But, being an angel, they were never mine. I was a... a guest in your family, practising your own brand of politeness.”

Dean wet his lips. “But you are family, Cas.”

Castiel nodded once in agreement. “I am now. And I am human. And I want to do what humans have done throughout history, when they finally fall in love.”

A grin peeked out from between Dean’s lips. “Heh.”

“Does that satisfy you?” Castiel asked. “Is that reason enough?”

“I never needed a reason, Cas,” Dean shrugged. He leaned close and kissed him, lingering as he breathed out. “Yeah, let’s get married. God knows we could all use a little more humanity.”

“To Dean and Cas,” Sam said, raising his water glass.

Dean poured himself some wine out of Castiel’s glass, slopping some on the tablecloth. He raised a toast along with Castiel.

“To a happy engagement, a successful marriage,” Sam said, smiling so widely he felt his lips cracking, eyes warming, “and an even-better whatever comes after.”

“To infinity and beyond,” Dean said.

Sam laughed.

Castiel didn’t get the reference, so clinked his glass to Dean’s. “I will love you then, too.”

Dean clinked his glass to Sam’s; Sam tapped his to Castiel’s.

They sipped together, smiling. Dean and Castiel screwed their hands together, tight, while Sam reached to pat Dean’s arm in congratulation.

“Alright,” Dean said, sniffing once. Troy approached, carrying their main courses on white plates, and Dean picked up a random fork and knife, holding them vertical in his fists. “Let’s chow down. World’s most expensive rabbit food.”

“A feast,” Sam corrected, as Troy lay their plates down, each piled up with gorgeous, fluffy salad greens, and thick reds and browns, all steaming and decorated by swirls of fine yellow sauce. As Sam thanked Troy, and Troy left them, Sam turned to Dean and Cas. “A feast in honour of you two. Forget the cost for now, just enjoy it. It’s worth it for you.”

Dean turned his doe eyes to Castiel. Castiel gazed back, adoring. For a little while, their rabbit food went forgotten, overshadowed by a love that would last well past whatever century the beans in the burger would go extinct.

Sam chuckled. Like Dean had said, nothing was different. This kind of lovesick fawning was exactly what they’d done before. But like Cas had said—? It made all the difference in the world.

Now, instead of sitting beside his brother and their best friend, now Sam sat by his brother and his brother-in-law-to-be.

That distinction was, perhaps, a small one. But going by the rise of joy in Sam’s heart, he could only conclude it was a symbol that, to humanity in general, meant more than words could express. And if Sam was this happy to see them together, he knew they were even happier.

To infinity and beyond, right?

With Sam’s love included, they’d surely love each other for far, far longer than that.

**Author's Note:**

> This restaurant offers _FREE invisible bean burgers_ in exchange for kudos and comments~! Oh boy, what a steal!!
> 
> Other fics in which Sam is the Destiel catalyst:  
> ♥ **[Sam Accidentally Sees the Whole Picture](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1310779)** (10.4k, accidental voyeurism)  
>  ♥ **[#ThankYouSammy](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3349259)** (9.6k, Sam sets them up on a Valentine's day date)


End file.
